“Fuck, fuck, fuck”

“Yes, darling, hot, sticky, messy…”

“Uh huh. All over me. Including my keyboard.”

“I’d help you clean up if I were there, sweetie.”

“I wish you could have come, too, babe. I want you to play later, when you’re alone. I want you to remember what you were thinking and tell me about it the next time we chat. Or you can blog about it.”

“Mmmm. I might just do that.”

***************************

For you… this is what I did, what I thought about, later.

I was in my tub, surrounded by hot water, green tea scented bubbles, and steam. I relaxed into the water, and let my hands caress my nipples, circling, tweaking a little. One hand moved down my body, trailing along the soft flesh of my belly, and finally began to circle my already sensitive clit, as I began to think of you.

As happens so often these days, I imagined what it’s going to be like when we meet for the first time. This time, my fantasy begins in the elevator to your hotel room. We’re already in each other’s arms, and the weight of you presses me into the back wall, as we inch slowly upward to one of the upper floors. In this fantasy, it’s all about how your body feels on mine. Our weeks of verbal foreplay have led to this moment, with your hard cock pushing at me, my panties soaked from the minute we first touched, first kissed.

Back in my tub, I rub my clit between two fingers, hard. I’m already past wanting any kind of gentle lead-up to climax. The water swishes and splashes on my arm as my hips gyrate and cause my own miniature tub-tsumani.

We’re still in the elevator, me pressed against the wall, you kissing me hard, grinding yourself against me. You reach behind you and hit the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt. Your hand wriggles into the non-existent space between us, and lifts the skirt that has already been hiked by your knee forced between my legs. You push the fingers of your right hand past the elastic of my panties, while your left hand holds my ass and pulls me onto your finger.

My own fingers mimic what I imagine yours to be doing… pressing straight into me, two, no three fingers thrusting inside me, making me gasp and contract my muscles on them.

I am trapped between you and the wall of the elevator. I would fall otherwise… my legs have long since given up trying to hold me upright. I whimper as your three fingers ravage me, take me, fuck me. I hear your hot breath as you whisper in my ear, “Now, come baby, now.”

I feel my own orgasm, hot, hotter than the bath water around me, gush past my finger, as my vagina contracts then releases, and I hear my own muffled sounds, your name gasped, my ragged breathing.

I do. I come, my hot juices flooding your fingers, filling the cupped palm of your hand, running down my slippery thighs.

That’s it. That’s where my fantasy ends. That’s when I struggle to normalize my breathing, splash a little water on my flushed face, make a move to leave my bath. Perhaps next time we’ll actually make it to the hotel room.